


Wrapped In A Bow

by j_gabrielle



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Christmas Themed, Crossdressing, Emotional Constipation, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just something he'd thought about. But to see Q bringing it to life?</p><p>Best Christmas Present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped In A Bow

**Author's Note:**

> A huge, huge thank you to my lovely beta [allofthefandoms](http://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms) who held my hand and worked through all my mistakes, and nudged this fic into a better place than it could have ever been.
> 
> This couldn't have had happened without you, m'dear.
> 
> Also to [illustriousquartermaster](http://illustriousquartermaster.tumblr.com) and [doubleohbond](http://doubleohbond.tumblr.com) who are my Tumblr OTP;
> 
> *laughs like a maniac and runs away screaming*

When Bond had woken up that morning, he was most certainly not expecting this. Sure, he _had_ expected Q to be spread out and begging beneath him, desperate for a touch in the right places, face flushed and eyes bright and wild.

But most definitely not this.

Q lies on their bed with the Christmas themed covers, wearing nothing but wine red briefs that were held up with bows on its side, half-hard erection distorting the fabric and visible through the see-through lace. Black pumps arch his feet gracefully, and Bond wonders if he’d painted his toenails the bright shade of blood red he knew he had hidden behind the books on the second shelf. There was a glossy shine to his lips and his eyes darkened by the smoky black of the liner. A blush high on his cheeks, he smiled and beckoned Bond close.

It had been a relatively easy assignment this time around, although Bond has his suspicions that a certain quartermaster might have something to do with that. Because a mission that is scheduled to run through the holidays and up to New Year’s, cut short to only a week and a half? Yeah. Q’s been busy.

“You like it?” He asks, voice high and breathy. Bond slips into the V of his legs, leaning down on his elbows. The twinkling lights of the fairy lights that line the headboard cast a warm gold glow on Q’s skin. Bond traces his jaw, memorising the softness of his skin, the way he goose bumps and shudders under his touch. He traces the rise of his cheekbones, following the line of his nose, the dip of his cupids bow. Q’s eyes tracked his every move, watching him.

“You didn’t have to.” Bond kisses curve of his neck, pressing his lips against Q’s pulse point.  He smiles when Q shivers when he rubs his day old stubble over the skin of his shoulder.

“I wanted to.” Q replies, lifting a hand to cup Bond’s cheek.  He smiles softly, and it is in these moments that Bond feels overwhelmed by the happiness and fear that this strange and incredible man incites in him. He is cut off from that line of thought by the taste of strawberries on his lips. Bond sits back, pulling Q with him, rearranging their bodies until he is sitting on the edge of the bed with Q straddling him.

The night before he’d left, Q had asked about what he would have wanted as a gift for Christmas. _I’ve already got you next to me_ , _what better present could there be?_ He had wanted to say. What came out was a request to see him in heels and women’s lingerie, said with a playful smirk. It was one of his more private fantasies, something he had never thought could happen, but to see it? To be able to touch it?

Bond mouths at the ribbon choker that wraps snug around his neck, nuzzling against his Adam’s apple as Q tightens his hold on his shoulder. He grips bony hips hard enough to bruise, feeling slightly primal about the dark coil of pleasure that rises at the thought of Q wearing his marks.

“You’re still fully dressed.” Q tugs on his tie playfully, laughing as he nips at his ear. “That’s not fair, double-oh-seven” Q moves his hands to the back of Bond’s skull, scratching gently. Bond smirks, pulling him closer by the hips.

“Maybe I just like it this way. Have you thought of that? That I like it better when you’re wearing next to nothing, on my lap where you belong.” Q sighs, a slight frown creasing his brow. His cock bobbed, leaking and staining the dark fabric of Bond’s trousers. “Maybe I should just keep you like this all the time; wearing nothing but those heels and the shapes of my hands on your hips, your lips swollen by my kisses.” He whispers, thumbing the smooth skin of his flank, running his finger over the line of the panties and ignoring the hard member that was peeking over the top. “Maybe I would after all…” He says idly, slipping a finger into his navel.

Q keens, rolling his hips downwards. “Please James…”

Bond smiles, “You know I can’t do anything for you if you don’t tell me _exactly_ what it is you want, my dear Q.” 

He watches Q take in deep gulps of air, struggling to hold on to his tattered sanity. “Please James. I need you in me. I need you to _fuck me_ …” He begs, biting down on his bottom lip as he ruts in his lap. Q wraps his arms around Bond’s shoulders, pressing their bodies’ line for line. “I need you to come in me, James. I need to feel you in me, on me,” Q takes James’ hand and places it on his waist, “I want to _know_ that I’m yours again.” 

Bond closes his eyes and growls. He tries not to think of the bodies he has had to touch in the name of Queen and country, while Q was in his earpiece listening in the whole time. He doesn’t kid himself that the way Q always seemed to be on the shores of desperation during sex after every mission is not _jealousy_. He tries to ignore it, but the hurt that he tries to hide haunts him every time he has to lie back and think of England.

He flips them over, pressing Q back into the mattress, pinning him down by the hips. The kiss they share is nothing short of a show of dominance, of possession. Q mewls, lips desperately seeking his, and it tugs at Bond’s heart. “Please… James… Please.” He sobs, hands frantically finding purchase, an anchor to keep him from fraying apart, although Bond thinks he is too far gone for that. Bond pushes Q’s sweat soaked hair away from his face, kissing everywhere he could.

“’Kay. Alright love. Just… Just let me. Let me take care of you.” Bond pants, voice breaking over his words. He brings his hand to the pretty bow at Q’s slim hips, untying them, lifting his hips to take away the ruined panties. Bond pushes himself away to reach for the lube they keep by the bedside drawer.

“No… Here.” Q groans, taking his hand and slipping it under his lifted hips, bringing it to his entrance. “I… I’ve prepared myself for you.” He whispers uncertainly, bucking when Bond’s finger brushes against the slick, stretched rim and the body warmed hardness of a butt plug. “I’m sorry. I just… Wanted to be ready for you…”

Bond kisses him in reply, stealing his breath and the air from his lungs. “Do not ever apologise for this. Don’t ever apologise for _this._ ” He slips a hand to the front of his trousers, unzipping and taking his erection out.

He flips his tie over his shoulder, bracing himself. Bond presses their brow together as he pulls the plug out slowly. “I’m taking it out now, alright?” He coos comfortingly when Q winces, and gasps at the sensation of the plug leaving him. “You okay?”

Q nods, sucking at a scar on his shoulder.

Bond licks a kiss into Q’s mouth as he lines his cock with his hole, before plunging in with one swift motion. He stills his hips, letting the feeling of Q’s hole clenching and releasing wash over him. Bond tucks his arms under Q’s knees, bending him until his knees met his chest.

For a moment, he wishes that he had the power to fulfil his musings earlier; to keep Q spread slick and ready for him at a moment’s notice, to keep him languid and wanton in their bed, never wanting anything else but to be filled by him, to be owned and possessed this way always.

“I _swear_ James, if you don’t move I will personally make your next mission a living _hell_!” Q hissed, digging his nails into the skin of his shoulder.

Bond smiles, drawing back until only the head of his cock remained in the tight heat. He waits until Q begins to whine, before snapping his hips forward. He maintains the rhythm; slowing fucking in and pulling out, in and out, in and out, slow and controlled movements of his hips. Everything boiled down to just that; the movements their bodies made, the rise and fall of their chests, the change of the temperature of the room, the way the lights casted everything into a dreamy, surreal state. Everything was Q against him, underneath him, around him… Bond sucks in the air into suddenly empty lungs.

“You can, you know?” Q breathes, arching against him when he shifts his thrusts, face scrunched up. “You can… You can have me this way… Anytime you want. Any how you… Oh!”

Bond did not realise that he had spoken his thoughts out loud. “Would you let me?” He asks, seating himself deep. “Would you let me keep you this way? Would you let me have all of you?”

Q opens his eyes. Hands slipping upwards and tracing the lines of his face, Q smiles, eyes soft in the dim lights. “Silly man. Why are you asking for something you already have?”

Bond feels his heart stutter. Looking down at the man underneath him, he feels a surge of emotions he has thought he would not feel again in this lifetime. He can taste the words on the tip of his tongue. The only thing he does is lean down and pours everything he feels inside into the kiss.

“James…” Q pants, mouthing at the edges of his lips, the only warning he got before Q wailed as he came, spattering a hypnotic pattern across his chest and his chin. “Jamesjamesjames _james_ …” He pants, looking absolutely wrecked and debauched.

Bond grunts as the rhythm of his hips is broken. He merely pushes his way in, pulling Q by the hip against his. He tightens his hold on Q’s legs. Bond can only rut, all control seeping out of him; everything he knows, has ever known is fading away. All that’s left is this.

“I’ve got you, James. I’ve got you.” Q says. He wraps his arms around him. “So come for me.”

And he does, the bright lights behind his eyes bursting like fireworks.

He slumps forward, body limp and satiated. Bond lays there, the euphoria a heady buzz. Q’s hole is still pulsing weakly around him, trying to milk him for anything he has left. His mind feels as if it is stuffed full of cotton and is light as a feather, relaxed. It is a good feeling.

“Bond…” He hears whined, muffled against his shoulder. “Bond. Get off me.” Insistent hands push against him.

Bond gathers whatever strength he had left and pulled out of Q, flopping back beside him. He opens his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “Did I hurt you?” He asks, pulling Q close to him. He buries his nose against the mess of brown hair.

“No, it was perfect.” Q sighs, tucking himself into his arms. “Though I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.” He mourns, shifting himself.

“Wait here.” Bond says, kissing him as he leaves the bed. Q makes a noise of protest. “I won’t be long, I promise.” He grins.

Bond walks into their bathroom, turning on the light as he crosses the threshold. He feels the low thrum of elation sing in his veins. Bond tugs off his tie, throwing it into their laundry basket. He unbuttons his shirt, grimacing at the aches as he shrugs out of it. God, he is getting too old for this.

Maybe he was just getting too old in general. He breathes through the sudden tight vice around his chest.

He knows that he’s got a good 15 years or so on Q, despite what the other man might claim. He has seen the way some of their colleagues look at Q, Bond doesn’t kid himself that he would not be able to find someone who was more his age, who could keep up with the techno babble, who could promise him that he was the only one who shared his bed. Q needed someone younger, less battle worn, someone who could remember what true happiness felt like. Someone who could give him a heart that is whole…

This really wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes, mourning the fact that his trousers were not salvageable. He can almost hear the disapproving voice of his tailor in his ear. “It can’t be helped then.” He sighs. Bond opens the linen cupboard under the sink, wetting the cloth in the sink.

“Are you coming back to bed? I’m getting bored!”

Bond can hear the pout in Q’s voice, and it makes him smile a little. “I’m coming, you child.”

“If I’m a child, doesn’t that make you a cradle robber? Old man?” Q narrows his eyes as he steps back into the room, a small smile on his lips taking away the sting of his words. He holds his hand out to him. Bond takes it, grinning against the faint strawberry taste of the mouth against his. He pushes away his insecurities into the dark corners of his mind.

“It’s a little cold, sorry.” He says, wiping down the traces of cum between Q’s legs and the drying stains on his chest and chin. Q wrinkles his nose at the sensation of the cloth against his sensitive skin.

“Mm… Cold.” He whines, turning his body until his face is pressed against Bond’s hip.

Bond chuckles, running a hand through his hair. He sits there watching the other man fondly as he curls himself into a foetal position. Sex is well good and all, but it is moments like these that he loves the most. In these moments, they were just _them_ ; no MI6, no blood and violence, no computers and exploding pens, no one else but the two of them in this little bubble of time.

 “It’ll just be for a little while longer.” He soothes, taking a clean corner and wiping away the smudge lip gloss on a corner of his jaw, the dark of ruined eyeliner on his eyes. When he is satisfied, he flings the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom.

He notes, with a sense of satisfaction, that Q has had his toenails painted a sky blue colour when he removes the left heel that still clung to his foot. The right heel was… somewhere. They’ll look for it in the morning.

“Did you like my surprise?” Q mumbles sleepily. Bond moves him under the covers, frowning slightly at the pattern of reindeers with machine guns. He turns off the fairy lights, letting the light of the street lamp cast the long shadows of falling snow into their room.

“Where did you even get these god-awful things?” He says, slotting their bodies together.

Q sighs happily against the skin of his nape. “You love them, don’t lie.” A pause, “You haven’t answered my question. Did you?”

There was a hint of hesitance in his voice that only reinforced how young he was. Bond draws the cover over them, kissing the man in his arms gently. He must have had done something right in his life, to have this man in his arms. He knows that the next time M drops a dossier in front of him; it will just start the cycle all over again.

But for now they have this. And it was enough.

“Best Christmas gift ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> These are some of the things I took as inspirations for Q's get up:-
> 
> The lingerie--http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/fleur-of-england-berry-kiss-bow-tie-brief/
> 
> The shoes--http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HR_RyImALao/T60ulrTR84I/AAAAAAAADz0/nokInPukx3o/s1600/christian-louboutin-shoes-declic.gif
> 
> The butt plug--http://www.coco-de-mer.com/products/coco-de-mer-rose-design-small-ceramic-butt-plug/


End file.
